Now A Mom

Well,the time has finally come, I’m being induced in the morning. People keep asking me how I’m feeling about all of it and honestly, I almost feel normal. Maybe a little nervous, sometimes a little bit scared, but it hasn’t quite hit me that this is all really going to happen. That combined with the fact that this is all completely 100% new to me so I have no clue how bad or not so bad it’ll be, I’m not to sure I know how to feel or how to prepare or really what to do beyond show up and follow the dr’s order’s once I get there. Until then, I’ll continue to focus on the end of this whole labor process. The time that I can finally just sit and relax and enjoy my little newborn. Once we reach that point and I can see her face, I know that at that point, it’ll all be worth it. The pain and exhaustion will be forgotten and all that I’ll think of is this adorable baby girl and how happy I am to have her. Then she comes home and the real test begins…

             Last night as my husband and I were lying in our room trying to get some sleep and talking a bit before we did, I was complaining a bit about not being able to find a comfortable way to sleep that would allow me to breath well enough to be able to sleep. As he was teasing me about complaining about things like this I, as usual, replied with “it’s not my fault, it’s because I’m pregnant”.

               He proceeded to tell me that I would use that excuse for everything. That if I ever shot someone (which of course I never would) I’d probably just respond to the accident by saying “ Oh sorry old man, it’s not my fault because I’m pregnant”. Of course, this was an extreme exaggeration, but as I lay there I began to contemplate… what can the excuse “Because I’m Pregnant” legitimately be used for. I know I have used it far to many times during my pregnancy and have even joked that it wouldn’t end after the babies born. That after she’s born it’ll become “it’s not my fault, I just had a baby” and that I’ll use that as long as I can.

             Most of the time, using this excuse is just a joke, but there are still a number of occasions that I really mean it. When we’re just sitting here doing nothing and I suddenly break into tears for no reason at all… I’m sad “Because I’m pregnant”. There are of course some instances where it’s ok to say that because it’s true. Some of the things going on really are because I’m pregnant. I can’t breath ever because I’m pregnant, my bodies really sore because I’m pregnant, I get sad for no reason because I’m pregnant, I’m picky about what I eat because I’m pregnant. This list could go on for at least a few more things, but I’ll spare you all of the little details. How long can we really go on with this excuse? Once the babies born, there’s a good chance I’ll still get sad for no reason as my hormones level out and I begin to experience the ‘lack of sleep’ I’ve heard so much about as my little girl wakes up all night long. By the time I finally get back to normal from this baby and pregnancy, I’ll probably be pregnant with the next and the cycle continues. I once told my husband pregnancy was really hard and I didn’t think he could handle it, he responded by saying it was just as hard for him because he has to deal with me. Don’t get me wrong, I know this sounds a little… insensitive, but he really is great at helping and we do have a very sarcastic and joking personality with each other. Now I just hope for the day that I will be back to normal and no one will have to ‘put up with me’ any longer.

                    When I finally got out of bed at about 2 to take something to help me sleep the other night, I had the same thought that I bet most of you are right now… What in the heck am I doing awake this late? The truth is, it’s a pretty regular occurance these days. No longer having the ability to breath and having to get up to run to the bathroom atleat once an hour or so of course don’t help, but those things I can get past. What really gets me is these constant thoughts on my mind that is generally referred to as part of the ‘nesting’ phase. One of the strange aspects of pregnancy. We grow up with our mom’s always on us about how could we just walk by that shoe and not pick it up and how we could leave the house in the morning without at least making out beds. How could we live in this ‘filth’?… which to us appears to be nothing more then a couple dirty shirts on the floor or a stray pair of shoes or two. As this so called nesting phase started to kick in, I began to quickly understand why our moms think the way they do.

              Something hits you, I have this constant feeling of having so much to do and no time to do it. That no matter how many times I remake her bed or clean her room to get it ready for her, it’s never good enough and I’ll find myself redoing it all within a day or two. I picked up hobbies that I never imagined myself having, things that a lot of people pictures their mom’s doing or anyone but me. Things like sewing baby pj’s. I never thought that I would have such a drive to learn how to sew.

             Every weekend it seems I come up with some new project I want done because I have to be ready now. Something as simple as packing my bags for the hospital to something like moving the furniture in her room again because it just doesn’t quite look right. What I have come to realize in these sleepless nights is that it’ll never be perfect. That there’ll always be something that seems a bit out of place to me or just not quite right or clean enough. I also realize that while I’m killing myself with stress that things will never be done in time, there really isn’t that much to do and I’m sure it’ll all work out fine. Why then do you ask do I stress and make such a big deal out of these little things? The answer is somewhat simple… I can’t help it. No matter what I tell myself or how much I see myself get done in a day, I can’t shake this feeling that it’s not perfect and the stress that there is still so much more to do. The truth is, there will always be stuff to do, wash the dishes or clean my husband’s dirty clothes… there will always be something. What I need to learn now is what’s important to do now and what can wait for another less busy day so that when I do have this baby, I’ll have taught myself already to realize she’s what’s important and I need to schedule as much time to be with her as I can. You think this all sounds a bit strange, I know I did. Just wait until it happens to you, if it hasn’t already, then it’ll all make to much sense.

Well, here I am, just over 2 weeks to go, assuming that it works out to have this baby before Christmas, and it seems lately there is one thought that overwhelms my mind beyond all else. Am I really ready for this? I don’t mean the labor part, I don’t mean making sure I have all the clothes, bottles, diapers, etc. I know all of that will be fine. All I need for that is a good epidural and to remember that if we did forget anything, there’s a few stores right down the street. What I really wonder is am I ready for the next 18 years of her life? Am I ready to be responsible for this little girl. To know that every decision I make, and thing I do, will mold her to become the woman she will be in the future. So much of what she becomes is dependent on the ways that I teach and raise her. I have never had anything so reliant on me, she’ll need me to do everything for her, to be everything for her. Can I live up to that? I know that I will just need to take it one step at a time, one day at a time and I’ll figure out what I think is the best for her. And also to remember that I do have an amazing husband who will help me through it all and be there to be a great example for her. I don’t have to do any of this on my own and I am so thankful for that. I know he’ll always be there and that she’ll have plenty of family to love and watch over her to be sure she does become the absolute best that she can. With all the help I can get, hope, faith, and taking things one step at a time, I know this will be the toughest and best experience of my life.

              Pregnancy, I have learned, basically makes strangers feel comfortable asking you about just about anything and telling you just about anything, and of course, touching ‘the belly’. This, of course, can lead to some funny situations and some crazy awkward situations. From most people, I don’t mind the comments and questions and even the tummy rub, but there are those times where as some people go to touch the belly, my natural reaction is to slap their arm or push them away. I of course don’t as that would be even a little more awkward then them touching it and a lot rude.

           Anyways, back to the funny/awkward moments of questioning… My most funny pregnant moment with a stranger yet. While eating at the chik fil’ A the other day, a pair of police officers came and sat at a nearby table for lunch. As one walked away from the table, the lone officer began to talk to me. I wasn’t sure if he noticed that I was pregnant due to the fact that I was sitting down, with the table hitting about the top of my belly, as well as wearing a jacket. As he began to strike up a conversation, he began with the usual “So, what are you having?” I answered with my initial thought as I was eating my lunch… “A chicken sandwich and somefries”. He then said a polite oh and lowered his head, pretending to be very interested in the food in front of him for a minute or two. He then slowly lifted his head and followed my answer with “I meant the baby”. I told him a girl and begin to try to explain that that made a lot more sense to be asking about and trying as hard as I could to save this embaressing situation.

                     He went on politely with a couple more ’small talk’ comments while I scarfed down the remainder of my food and gathered up my things to quickly leave and I found it was the only quick way to save myself from the comment I had just made about my ‘chicken sandwich and fries’. With bags in hand and my head down, I quickly walked out of the store as the officer’s partner returned.

               I must say that was by far my worst response to any question I have been asked while pregnant. Who would really ask what I was having for lunch unless he was some guy trying to hit on a girl and was so socially awkward or intimidated by her good looks to come up with something better to say. Thus the reason I tell my husband constantly I should make a sign or tshirt to wear with all the appropriate information. That way I will always avoid answering a stranger’s questions with some awkward or dumb response.

Ok, so technically speaking, I’m not a mom. I have been pregnant for what feels like an eternity and still have 3 more dreadful weeks to go (4 if they won’t induce me early) . You know how they always portray pregnant women on TV? So happy and LOVE pregnancy and feel so pretty and blah blah blah. My thoughts…. it’s all a bunch of crap! I guess to justify this point, you should know my side of the story. For some, pregnancy is great (or so I hear). For me, IV therapy, anti-nausia prescriptions, a record of throwing up 15 times in half a day, and only about 1 1/2 to 2 months where I didn’t really throw up was not my idea of a good time. I have always been that girl, that “I want to get married right after school and have 5 kids” kind of girl. Now after all of this, my parents will be lucky to get 2 grandkids out of me. Everyone keeps telling me that it’ll all be worth it in the end, and I must admit, I believe them. I have my bad days, days where my body is so tired and so sore I don’t want to get off the couch, where it takes everything out of me just to catch my breath, where I can’t wait to have my cute cothes and small figure back. Then again, there are those days where someone will stop you just to say how cute your little belly is or what a cute little pregnant person you are, and you feel the baby wiggling around and realize what can be better then this? I wouldn’t give it up for the world. I think if men did have to go through pregnancy, I’d be jealous to never know what it feels like to have a little girl growing and moving inside of me. To never sit and wonder if she’s ok then feel her slide across my belly and know she’s perfect. Those perfect nights when my husband and I sit on the couch watching a tv show with his hand constantly on my belly, waiting for her to move around and spending commercials with him telling her her mom is crazy or weird or whatever else he comes up with that night. What can be better then that? The first time we can sit, just the three of us after she’s born, everyone happy and everyone healthy, to know we made this perfect adorable baby girl and she is ours to love and care for. I wouldn’t give that up if it meant I had to feel sick every day for the rest of my life. No matter how miserable it seems at times to be pregnant, that thought alone has gotten me through every day, most with a smile on my face knowing it’s all for the best reason in the world. What could be better…